


Everybody's Got a Little Outlaw in 'em

by Tiofrean



Series: Feel good [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Developing Relationship, FightClub!AU, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Mild Blood, Sheriff!Rick, Smut, fighter!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14639229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: Rick gets dragged into Daryl's dangerous lifestyle... and is too stubborn to back away when troubles find them.It's a good thing Daryl taught him some moves.Edit: Sorry for posting it twice - the Archive glitched. All working now!





	Everybody's Got a Little Outlaw in 'em

**Author's Note:**

> The last part of my Fight Club AU! (Since you asked about it! <3) Thanks for all the comments and kudos, guys! This series has been a blast! <3 
> 
> MermaidSheenaz made sure I didn't fuck up anywhere in the text (dziękuję, słonko! <3). 
> 
> The title comes from Waylon's song - "Outlaw in 'em". Go check it out, the guy's amazing! 
> 
> Enjoy, and till the next time!

After they had unofficially gotten together, Rick and Daryl had started to go to fight clubs. It was a natural progression, really…

First, there were couch dates and beer, which ended with bed and damp sheets. Then there were the movies and Rick bawling his eyes out on some shitty romance piece, just to have Daryl kiss him softly and passionately. There were Daryl’s bloodied knuckles that Rick wrapped tenderly after he had kissed away the crimson smears, and Rick’s tired eyes after late-night shifts with Shane.

Everything was going smoothly, up until they decided to go to one particular fight club they favored.

They had picked it at random some weeks before, a small den on the outskirts of King County. It was crowded enough to blend in, but there weren’t too many familiar faces, which ensured Rick and Daryl’s anonymity. Rick still had a reputation to uphold, being a Sheriff’s Deputy and all. He knew that going to shady establishments to ogle his boyfriend was a stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself. It had all been going pretty well, up until the precise moment when it all went bust.

 

-&-

 

“Shit, he’s good,” someone shouted over Rick’s head and he nodded, taking a sip of his beer. He was standing on a balcony inside the club, eyes fixed on the floor below.

Daryl was fighting in the ring - moves quick and feet light - and Rick couldn’t take his eyes off him. The lightning fast strikes and that quiet grace that bloomed full whenever Daryl decided to attack… Not to mention bulging muscles and broad shoulders. _Yeah, Rick’s pants were obscenely tight right then and there._

Daryl threw a punch, and the crowd cheered when his opponent fell to the floor, knocked out cold. Rick grinned, turning around and gulping down the rest of his beer. He had a hot boyfriend to get to, so he threw the empty bottle into the bin standing in the corner and headed down, intent on dragging Daryl out of there and straight into their bed.

He walked down the stairs slowly, trying no to bump into too many people. Rick was well aware that every little bump had the potential to end on the ring, so Rick paid attention to where he placed his feet. He had been training with Daryl - _Seriously Rick? Yer a cop, ya need to know how to hit! -_  but he still preferred to keep out of trouble. After all, his job was chasing criminals out there, on the streets… he would leave the ring to Daryl. Especially when he looked good enough to eat while fighting.

Rick was aware that probably half of the club was ogling Daryl - it was an unwritten rule that talking about boners was not allowed, even if the boners themselves were very common. Rick appreciated the sentiment - Daryl was his and only his. With those steel-hard muscles and gorgeous shoulders, Daryl was a sight to behold… _and to get a hard-on over._  But he still had a mean squint, which, directed at the others, was just enough to keep them at bay. After all the time spent with Daryl, though, Rick only found it  _arousing as hell._

He was looking for those narrow eyes now, stormy blues sparkling in the dimmed light above Rick’s head, but Daryl was nowhere to be seen. Rick walked around downstairs, checking Daryl’s usual spots - near the column, next to the north wall, just short of his corner of the ring… But Daryl wasn’t there.

Before Rick could start to get worried, however, he had spotted Daryl’s shaggy hair in the crowd. Stepping carefully, Rick moved towards him, spotting a familiar face standing right next to his fighter. He had a mess of dirty-blond hair and a pretty screwed up face.

_Dwight._

Rick remembered him from that first night in the fight club, back when he had still been trying to catch Negan. They had captured the drug lord, but Dwight had managed to escape somehow. They had been looking for him, but without much success… until now.

Rick frowned and walked closer slowly. Dwight was talking to Daryl, and his words must have been harsh enough to get Daryl into his defensive mode - shoulders wide, legs rooted to the floor, his head leaned forward, and a hard set to his jaw.

And then, suddenly, Daryl was reaching forward with one arm, fingers fisting tightly in Dwight’s t-shirt. Daryl pulled the man forward and glared at him, their faces so close Rick knew a head-butt was coming.   
“Problem?” Rick asked when he was within their earshot. Dwight’s eyes darted to him, and he stumbled when Daryl released him with a vicious shove backwards. He eyed Daryl one last time.   
“Remember, he’s still pissed. See you later, Daryl,” Dwight seethed and turned around. Rick watched him go from the corner of his eye, the rest of his attention focused on Daryl only. The fighter was just standing there, damn near shaking, eyes glued to the silhouette disappearing in the crowd.

“Everything okay?” Rick asked at last, when it seemed that Daryl was set on killing Dwight with the daggers he was glaring at his retreating back.   
“No,” Daryl growled, looking at Rick. His gaze had a hard edge to it that Rick hated - he had encountered it on a few occasions, mostly when Daryl had let something about his past slip into a conversation. But it had never been as intense as in that moment.   
“What’s wrong?” Rick asked, immediately alert, but to his surprise, Daryl only shook his head slightly.   
“Nevermind. Ya should go,” Daryl muttered, so low it was almost inaudible over the people talking around them. Rick frowned.

“What? Why?” He asked, but Daryl bit his lip and didn’t say anything else. He stood there for a moment, stock-still, and Rick was slowly getting worried, when Daryl finally spoke again.   
“Go home, Rick.” It was quiet, but filled with that determined sort of message that made Rick’s insides turn to ice.

Something was wrong, something was  _very wrong._

Before Rick could ask for clarification, or perhaps tell Daryl that he wasn’t going to go anywhere, the fighter turned around and strode away in the direction of the toilets. Rick stood there, stupefied, his whole being screaming at him to go after Daryl. There was a small voice at the back of his head that was rattling on about how Daryl had never acted like this. He could be gruff and abrasive, but he had never been as dismissive as this. Even if he had been exhausted and Rick had stepped on his toes somehow, even when Daryl growled at him once or twice, it had never been so cold and impersonal. Rick thought he knew Daryl well enough to tell when something bad was going to happen.

He also knew that Daryl would try to shield him from whatever that _bad_ could be. Rick knew that his man had a heart of gold, even if it had been battered and bruised a long time before they had met. It didn’t matter if it was Daryl stepping between Rick and some random, testosterone-filled guy in the club, or if he just gave Rick his jacket before they got on Daryl’s bike. He was just that kind of man who would protect what was his with fierce abandon, and it was both, heartwarming  _and_ hot, to be the object of such affection. It also scared Rick shitless to see Daryl drawing away from him.

Not letting himself dwell too much on that, Rick followed Daryl into the toilets.

There were two stalls inside the bathroom, both doorless - the doors had been ripped from the hinges a long time ago - and thankfully, they were empty. Rick walked in carefully, eyes set on Daryl’s figure immediately. He was hunched over the sink, staring down into it, with his hair falling forward and shielding most of his face from view. Rick swallowed heavily, seeing the obvious signs of distress. He wanted to press himself to Daryl’s back, wrap his arms around Daryl’s waist and push his face into that sweaty black t-shirt… keep on hugging Daryl, until the tension went away.

Instead, Rick closed the door behind him, regretting it didn’t lock.

“Daryl…” he started quietly, but Daryl shook his head, still not looking at him.   
“Told ya to go,” the fighter mumbled in a shaky voice.   
“I’m not going anywhere without you, okay?” Rick stepped closer. A raw kind of energy was positively vibrating all around Daryl. It made Rick feel uneasy.

Daryl huffed and shook his head again.   
“Man… aren’t ya a stubborn sonofabitch,” he gruffed, finally turning to Rick and meeting his gaze. Rick’s breath caught in his chest.

Daryl’s expression was so open, Rick had no doubts that it was as vulnerable as he would ever see him - lips parted and eyes glinting with something that twisted Rick’s gut painfully tight. He stepped closer and grabbed Daryl’s arms carefully, feeling him tense up.   
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Rick whispered, staring right at him. It was almost ridiculous, having a serious conversation in that grungy bathroom, but neither of them seemed to care.

“That guy…” Daryl started, but trailed off.  
Rick nodded. “Dwight. I know him.”   
“Yeah. He said there are Negan’s goons in t’ club. Waitin’ fer me to come out so they can pay me back fer givin’ Negan out,” Daryl muttered, one hand coming up and dislodging Rick’s from his arm. He started to bite his thumbnail nervously and Rick frowned, processing what he had just said.

“How many?” He asked finally, and Daryl shrugged.  
“Dunno. Said ’m dead soon as I step outta ‘ere,” he looked to the side, and Rick cursed silently.

Death threats were nothing new in his line of work,  _hell,_  they were nothing new with Daryl’s lifestyle. But they promised big ol’ trouble when spoken in a fight club and not during a simple bar brawl.   
“Alright, what do we do?” Rick asked, and Daryl glanced at him, surprised.   
_“We?”_    
“Yeah. I’m here, aren’t I?” Rick raised one eyebrow, as if he was daring Daryl to question him.

“Why?” The fighter asked, shaking his head incredulously. “Why are ya here, Rick? I ain’t no good, ya should just leave,” Daryl gruffed out, looking at the floor. Rick frowned.   
“The hell are you talking about?”   
“I ain’t ever been good ‘nuff. Those scars at my back? Mah pa gave ‘em to me. I ain’t been good ‘nuff for ‘im. I ain’t good ‘nuff to get a job… ain’t good ‘nuff for you,” Daryl rattled out, voice shaky, but if it was grief or anger, Rick couldn’t tell.

He listened and seethed quietly, thinking about Daryl’s father and his good-for-nothing brother, and about how they had managed to fuck up spectacularly when it came to Daryl.   
“So, ya know… ya should just… go,” Daryl finished and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he was expecting Rick to walk away from him and not seeing it would be easier.

Rick couldn’t. He was no stranger to danger, he had been shot at one point, after all. And during the time they had spent together, he had started to have feelings towards Daryl. It had always been like this with Rick - he was picky as hell when it came to having someone in his bed, so one night stands were usually off the table for him. If he had gotten interested in someone, he usually ended up falling for them, fast and hard. It had been exactly what had happened with Lori - until she had broken up with him. It was what would have happened with Shane, had his friend not been so into women that he wouldn’t even see Rick that way.

It was exactly what was happening with Daryl now, and Rick couldn’t just leave him.

Daryl almost jumped when Rick wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him close, pressing his face into Daryl’s collarbone, inhaling his sweaty scent.   
“I’m staying,” Rick mumbled into the t-shirt, locking his hands behind Daryl’s back in case he wanted to pull away. But, Daryl just stood there, arms hanging limply by his sides, his breathing heavy. Rick turned his head to the side and pressed his lips to Daryl’s neck, felt the heartbeat thrumming just under Daryl’s skin.

“We get out of here together, or we don’t get out of here at all. I’m not leaving you, you hear me?” Rick whispered, just loud enough to be heard. Daryl was quiet, but he nodded, and then finally, _finally,_  his hands moved and went to Rick’s shoulders. Daryl wrapped his arms slowly around Rick’s chest, hugging him close, and Rick couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to say something else, was actually leaning back and opening his mouth to let the words out, but he was interrupted by a loud squeak of half-rusted hinges.

The door to the bathroom swung open and a very shocked, ginger-haired guy appeared, eyes wide and mouth gaping.   
“Mother  _dick!”_  He gasped, his gaze jumping from Rick to Daryl. He had a ridiculous moustache and short, military-styled hair. He was also pretty beefy, and Rick tried to come up with something to throw him off enough to force him to leave with minimal fuss. Daryl just growled, irritated. His hands tightened where they encircled Rick’s shoulders, and he turned his head to address the man.

“Fuck off!” Daryl spat with a glare, prompting the ginger to raise his hands.  
“Chill out, pal, I ain’t looking for trouble,” he said, voice level. “I’ll leave you two gentlemen be.” Nodding at the both of them, the guy backed away, closing the door behind him.

Rick sighed and let his head fall forward, pressing his face into Daryl’s shoulder.   
“Thank god he wasn’t looking for a fight,” Rick muttered and felt Daryl nod.   
“Yeah, he’s a good guy. I’ve seen ‘im around ‘ere…” Daryl pulled away finally and Rick let him go. He looked at his fighter, stomping down the urge to kiss him senseless. This wasn’t the place, nor the time for that.

“So… Yer stayin’?” Daryl eyed him. Rick nodded.   
“Yes, we’re doing this together,” he stated, looking seriously at Daryl.   
“Alright.” Daryl shrugged and stepped away completely. He turned to the sink and splashed some water on his face, before he looked back at Rick.   
“Wanna beer ‘fore we face the music?” He asked and smirked when he saw Rick smile.   
“Make it a whiskey and you have a deal,” Rick drawled.

He followed Daryl out of the toilets, glancing around from time to time. He could feel eyes on him, but he couldn’t spot even a single person staring in their direction.   
“Here,” Daryl gruffed and tapped a bottle of beer against Rick’s forearm. It was cold and it made goosebumps raise on his skin. Rick took it and fished his phone out of his pocket.   
“I wanted a whiskey,” he muttered, making Daryl scoff.   
“An’ ya know this ain’t Ritz and yer only gonna get beer, ‘less ya bring some good stuff with ya,” Daryl reminded him and downed half of his own beer. Rick shrugged and went back to his phone.

“Whatcha doin’?” Daryl asked curiously, seeing Rick’s fingers flying over the keyboard.   
“Texting Shane,” Rick replied, never taking his eyes off the screen.   
“Yer bro Shane, the cop?”   
“Mhm… he’s actually nice once you’ve spent some time with him,” Rick finished off the message and tapped ‘send’.   
“Right.” Daryl gulped down some of his beer. “Wonder what he’d say knowin’ what we’re doin’,” he raised his eyebrows at Rick, and Rick grinned.

“He knows. And he’s pretty cool with it,” he stated, voice level. Daryl almost choked on his beer.   
_“What?”_  He asked, wiping his mouth.   
“I told him, so he wouldn’t go all protective on me. He does that sometimes…” Rick paused to drink some more. “He’s cool with us. Said something about me smiling more and all that…” he trailed off, glancing at Daryl, not really knowing what to expect. Fucking was one thing, but  _dating_  was something they hadn’t discussed, even if that was essentially what they had been doing for the past few weeks. Rick was anxious about Daryl’s reaction, suspecting the fighter didn’t like to let anyone too close; knowing that was what being together entailed.

To Rick’s utter surprise, Daryl just leaned in close to him, looking for all the world as if he was just trying to be heard despite the crowd around them.   
“I could kiss ya right now, Grimes, and then fuck ya through the floor, but…” he whispered right into Rick’s ear, and Rick closed his eyes and let out a small whimper. The picture painted with Daryl’s raspy voice shot right to his cock. Daryl went on, “I ain’t one to share and ‘m pretty sure we’d get into even more trouble…”   
“Yeah,” Rick answered, swallowing thickly. “Yeah…”   
“Later, at home,” Daryl stated and pulled away, the sudden absence of his body heat making Rick dizzy.

“Fuck,” Rick muttered, gulping down the rest of his beer. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it. He knew it was Shane and he could guess what the message was.   
“Alright, we gettin’ outta here?” Daryl asked and Rick nodded. He threw away his empty bottle and followed Daryl out.

They chose the back door, hoping the bad guys wouldn’t be there.

_They were wrong._

As soon as they walked out, Rick spotted seven men standing outside. The alley was dark and there was a storm coming - as evidenced by a flash of lightning and an angry rumble just over their heads.

 _Seven men..._ some of them muscular, some leaner. All of them angry as all hell.

Rick glanced at Daryl quickly, taking in his tense shoulders and defensive stance, before he eyed their opponents. There was no chance of getting out of this without bruises and blood, and Rick only hoped that Negan’s goons would at least spare his teeth.

“This doesn’t concern ya, Curly,” one of the brutes addressed Rick. “Scram!” He dismissed Rick with a wave of his hand and Rick frowned. He had been involved in arresting Negan, and if they weren’t after him, too, it meant that this hunt was very personal.

Rick tightened his fists and stood where he was. He could practically feel Daryl tensing next to him, eyes fixed firmly at the merry band of fuckers in front of them. The talkative one took a step closer, leering at Rick.   
“Fine. Ya wanna stay, be my guest!” From behind his back, he produced a piece of pipe.

“It looks like you need to think that over, gents!” A booming voice stated to their left, and Rick followed the direction of it with his gaze. That ginger guy from the club was standing nearby, half-hidden behind a trash container, a cigar tucked between his moustachy lips.   
“Get the fuck outta here, Abe, ‘s not yer fight!” One of the others shouted, but the ginger guy - Abe - just smiled.   
“There doesn’t have to be a fight, you sorry A-holes!” Abe took out a lighter from his pocket and lit it, bringing it to the end of the cigar.

Seeing that, one of the goons strode to him and knocked the lighter out of Abe’s hand. The ginger sent him a furious look. He took the unlit cigar away from his lips and tucked it into his pocket.   
“Well… in that case…”

And then, all hell broke loose.

It all happened so quickly, Rick had troubles following. One moment, the lighter skittered somewhere under the trash container, and the next, the guy responsible for it was cupping his bleeding nose after Abe had head-butted him.

The time for pleasantries was apparently over, and Rick lunged forward, narrowly missing a fist to his jaw. He heard Daryl grunt somewhere in the background, but he was too busy with trying to keep his hands up and guarding his face to spare him a glance. He waited until the Sleazy Talker got a bit tired, before Rick sidestepped him and jammed his elbow into the guy’s gut. He went down sputtering obscenities, and Rick might have smiled, if it hadn’t been for another of the brutes hitting him with a vicious right hook.

Rick stumbled back and leaned forward, hand shooting to his nose automatically. It came away red, and Rick had a brief moment of consideration, before he used his doubled-over position to run into the other guy. He managed to get him to the ground and hit him a few times, just enough to stop him from fighting back. Rick whipped his head around when he heard a pained grunt coming from Daryl. Rick’s blood ran cold when he saw him.

Daryl was on the ground, two men standing over him,  _kicking him,_  and before Rick could really think about it, he was on his feet and walking towards them. He jumped on the nearest guy’s back and managed to sneak one arm around his neck. The bastard was so surprised he fell back and took Rick with him, but thankfully, Rick held on strong. He managed to get him into a chokehold, avoiding the guy’s flailing arms and legs.

“Rick!” Daryl said from somewhere to his side, before something hit Rick on the head. He gasped and loosened his hold, letting the man go. The world started to spin a bit, and Rick rolled to his hands and knees, fighting the dizziness as he tried to stand up. There was another kick - this time to his ribs - and Rick tumbled back to the ground, a pained whimper escaping him. _Fuck, but that one hurt._

Rick was about ready to try and get up again, when there was a snarl to his right. Blinking furiously, Rick somehow managed to focus his eyes just enough to see Daryl dragging the guy that had kicked him away by his neck, apparently not caring if he broke it in the process. The pause was all he needed, and Rick managed to stand up on shaky legs. He turned around, spotting Abe hitting one of the guys square in the face. Daryl was sitting on the other one’s chest, looking for all the world as if he tried to strangle him with his bare hands.

There were four of these assholes knocked out flat on the ground. Which left…

Rick whirled around so fast, he got dizzy again. The seventh man was standing behind him - it was the sleazy one, the one with the pipe, which he was whirling around. Rick took a step back, trying to put some distance between them. He knew he could play it well if he could just get himself something to block that pipe with, when it would inevitably go down on him. He was ready to leap to the side, spotting a piece of wood lying next to the nearby building, when there was a loud crash.

Rick watched, stupefied, as the guy’s expression went blank suddenly. He fell forwards, face-first into Rick’s direction, and Rick danced away as fast as he could, letting the guy crash into the ground with a loud  _thump._

There was a silhouette behind where the seventh man had just been standing. A silhouette holding a broken beer bottle. Rick grinned.

_Shane._

“Thought you won’t show up,” Rick rasped, and Shane smiled at him.   
“Next time, give me the address, not just a shady name, brother.” Shane shrugged and threw the glass away. He looked over Rick’s shoulder. “The guys okay?” He asked, and Rick turned around. Abe was walking towards them, Daryl in tow.   
“He’s with you?” The ginger asked, and Rick nodded quickly.   
“That’s Shane,” Rick pointed behind his back and Abe nodded.

“Good to hear!” He extended one hand and shook Shane’s. “I’m Abe,” he said curtly, and then started to dig in his pockets. Rick ignored him and went to Daryl, who was standing just behind Abe.   
“You okay?” Rick asked, eyeing his fighter. Daryl nodded, eyes fixed on Rick’s face.   
“Ya look like shit,” he gruffed out, brushing his fingers tentatively over Rick’s eyebrow. It stung, so Rick hissed and jerked away. “Fuck, sorry,” Daryl muttered, but Rick just shook his head. Going by the throbbing pain he felt, one of those assholes must have busted his eyebrow or something. He touched it carefully, wincing when even the slightest pressure hurt, and looked down at his fingers - there was some blood, but not a lot of it. He’d survive, he’d had worse, after all. He glanced at Daryl.   
“I’ll be fine -”

“Guys, can we just… wrap up here?” Shane’s voice interrupted him, and Rick looked at his friend.   
“Yeah, we’d better,” Rick nodded in agreement. Abe finally finished his search - he had started to browse through the unconscious goons’ pockets - and brought up his cigar and a lighter stolen from one of the assholes.   
“You go,” he said, lighting the cigar. “I’ll stay here and keep the cops entertained if they show up,” Abe smiled that cocky smile of his, and Rick had to bite his cheek not to say  _‘we’re already here’._  Instead, he thanked their unexpected ally and started walking away, making sure Daryl and Shane followed.

 

-&-

 

The ride back was mostly silent, but it didn’t stop Rick from feeling all the pent up energy coursing through Daryl. It was almost as if the interior of his sedan was too small to contain all of the night they had just had. The adrenaline high was still making them jittery and Rick stepped a bit on the accelerator, trying to get home as quickly as possible. It was good that Shane had brought his own car and was currently going to his own place at the opposite side of their town - Rick doubted he would appreciate all the silent tension inside the car.

Rick tried to check Daryl over a few times during their ride, his gaze drifting to his silent companion, only to be met with his fiery eyes. Thankfully, Rick concentrated enough that he was able to assess the damage - one split lip and a bruised jaw for Daryl, a cut eyebrow and a throbbing nose for Rick. Gripping the wheel tighter, Rick focused back on the road.

They managed to contain themselves only until they walked into Rick’s house.

One step in, the door closing behind Daryl with a soft click, and suddenly, there were hands wrapping around Rick’s hips, pulling at him until he turned around. Daryl’s mouth was covering his so fast that Rick almost choked on his own saliva. He groaned, feeling a delicious shiver running down his spine when Daryl bit his lip hard enough to be felt.

“Christ!” Rick sighed when they broke apart only long enough to gulp in a few rushed breaths. Daryl attached himself to Rick’s neck immediately, humming against his jugular, a sound which Rick echoed in earnest. Daryl’s hands came up behind Rick’s back and held him close, as Daryl started to walk him backwards through the living room. Rick had a brief moment of clarity when his leg knocked into the coffee table, but it didn’t even last long enough to focus on getting to his bed. It couldn’t, really, not with Daryl’s lips scorching a hot trail along Rick’s collarbone, not with Daryl’s fingers clawing at Rick’s back as if he tried to get to Rick’s skin by shredding Rick’s t-shirt to pieces.

Daryl walked them backwards, until a wall blocked their path. He growled and pressed Rick against it, pushing his hips into Rick’s.   
“F-fuck…” Rick threw his head back with a hiss, his skull connecting with the wall with a low thud. Daryl just shoved harder against him, mouth busy sucking an embarrassingly large mark right over his collarbone. Rick could feel the hot outline of Daryl’s cock even through their trousers, and he reached with one hand to grab it. Daryl’s whole body jerked when Rick palmed him through the denim, a loud growl escaping his mouth and vibrating through Rick’s chest.

“Bedroom?” Rick breathed out, eyes closing when he felt Daryl’s tongue licking a wide stripe up his neck.   
“Nuh-uh… won’t last,” Daryl mumbled against his skin and dragged his teeth over the shell of Rick’s ear. “Wantcha,” he gruffed right into Rick’s ear, and Rick’s hips bucked forward, a low moan bubbling in his chest - Daryl knew  _exactly_ what drove him mad. And then, there were lips closing around his earlobe, and Rick’s knees damn near turned to jello. He let out a high, whimpering sound, and Daryl pulled away, taking a step back. He eyed Rick, his steamy gaze turning Rick’s insides to molten lava, before he grabbed Rick’s t-shirt and tugged it up. Rick raised his hands obediently, giving a quiet groan when the collar dragged over his injured eyebrow.

Daryl took the t-shirt off of Rick and threw it to the side, his own following shortly after. Rick watched, licking his lips, as Daryl stood there in all his broad-chested glory, his naked skin begging Rick to touch and kiss. Before he could move, Daryl pressed closer again, one hand cradling Rick’s cheek gently, turning his head to the side, so that Daryl had a clear view of the hurt eyebrow. He rubbed his thumb just over Rick’s cheekbone, and Rick belatedly realized that he must have been wiping away the blood that had probably trickled down from the wound.

It only lasted for a moment, and Daryl was kissing him again, plunging his tongue deeply into Rick’s mouth, almost as if he wanted to stake his claim. Rick didn’t mind, he just relaxed and let Daryl take what he needed, choking on a surprised moan when Daryl grabbed his chin and turned his head to the side. He dragged his tongue all the way up the side of Rick’s face, from his jaw to his hurt eyebrow, licking up the crimson trail.

Rick shivered when Daryl pulled away and caught his hips again. There was something wild in Daryl’s eyes, something that usually came out only when he was on the ring, and Rick swallowed thickly when he realized that wilderness was directed at him.   
“Turn ‘round,” Daryl gruffed. Rick just stood there, transfixed, brain getting stuck on the way Daryl looked like - strong, dangerous,  _sexy as hell._

When Rick didn’t move for a few seconds, Daryl used his hands to turn him around and push him face first into the wall. Rick had a brief moment to brace himself on his elbows, before Daryl was pressing against his back, hands sneaking around Rick’s waist and taking hold of his belt.   
“Daryl…  _oh shit,”_ Rick cursed, peeking down, seeing those bloodied knuckles shifting as nimble fingers unbuckled and unzipped his jeans. It took Daryl no time at all to open the trousers, and soon, he was pushing them down and past Rick’s ass, underwear following.

When the waistband settled around Rick’s thighs and Daryl hurriedly opened his own jeans, Rick froze, biting his lip. He wanted to say something about taking this to bed, or maybe remind Daryl about lube… but words were scattered all over his brain, and he didn’t feel like he could start to form coherent sentences. He waited, ready to do whatever Daryl wanted. The adrenaline was still coursing through him after that fight, making him more brave than was sensible. But, Rick figured, the lines were very fine when it came to post-fight sex, and Rick was ready to cross all of his own, as long as it meant that Daryl would do _something._

_If Daryl wanted to fuck him raw, Rick would happily spread his legs._

Thankfully, Daryl seemed to have a few more functioning brain cells, and when he pressed his hips close once again, his cock nestled between Rick’s ass cheeks. The hard length of it was so hot it felt like a brand, and Rick moaned loudly, pressing his forehead to the cool wall in front of him. He could feel his body shaking in anticipation, his own dick hanging heavy between his legs, and he pushed back, wanting Daryl to move at last.

There was a pause, as Daryl’s hands slid from Rick’s shoulders, down to his forearms, before they encircled his wrists. Rick felt Daryl’s whole weight on his body, pushing him into the wall, keeping him in place, as Daryl started to rock his hips - small, jerky movements, getting longer and more smooth with every pass. Rick wondered dizzily, if the wetness he could feel between his cheeks was precome, sweat, or saliva.

Not that he cared. Daryl groaning and growling behind him was enough to sufficiently distract him from the wetness. And when Daryl’s teeth dragged down the slope of his shoulder, Rick couldn’t stop his own spine from arching back.

Soon enough, Daryl’s whole body was shifting with each rock of his hips, his cock slipping against the cleft of Rick’s ass. The head caught against the rim of his hole a few times, but it never went in, and soon, Rick was moaning quietly on every thrust, sparks flying along his spine and lighting him up like a firework. Everything went quiet, except for Daryl’s little, predatory growls and the slick sounds between them.

They drove Rick mad.

His cock was hanging heavy and leaking between his legs, precome dripping from the tip and falling on the carpet beneath, but Rick was shivering too much to do something about it. He needed something to rub against soon, or he would lose his fucking mind.

Just as he contemplated tugging one wrist free and wrapping his own fist around his dick, Daryl gave a few aborted thrusts and stilled, muffling a loud moan into Rick’s shoulder blade. Hot wetness splashed over the small of Rick’s back, and he gasped when he felt Daryl jerking in place, his fingers clenching around Rick’s wrists.   
“Fuck…” Daryl breathed out, peeling himself away from Rick’s back. The cold air wafting over his skin made Rick wince, but he didn’t have time to complain.

Daryl used his hold on Rick’s wrists to turn him around, before he sank down to his knees before him. Rick watched, eyes wide, as Daryl leaned in and licked a wide stripe along the underside of his cock.  
“Shit,  _Daryl…”_  Rick’s hands were in Daryl’s hair before he even thought about it, fingers fisting in the dirty, sweat-soaked strands. Daryl hummed and ran his tongue over the head, wriggling it in that little spot just under the head, and Rick couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him. Daryl just grinned up at him and dove forward, letting Rick’s cock slip between his lips and deep inside his mouth. He bobbed his head a few times, before he started to suck, cheeks hollowing, eyes looking up.

Rick thought he would have a stroke.

The picture of his length disappearing inside Daryl’s mouth was too hot to watch, so he screwed his eyes shut after he had gotten his fill. He could feel pleasure pooling in his gut like liquid fire, coiling inside and getting ready to snap.

One of Daryl’s hands moved, traveling to the small of Rick’s back, and Rick’s eyes popped open again. He blinked down at Daryl, mouth falling open when he felt Daryl’s fingers smearing through the come that was slowly cooling on his skin. The fingers made a few small circles and then slid lower, between his cheeks, and  _oh._

_Fuck._

Daryl pulled off of Rick’s cock and rubbed one slick finger against his opening. Rick waited, his breath catching in his chest, hips shifting restlessly. He gave a weak groan when just the very tip of the finger prodded inside, then retreated, went in again, then out.   
_“Daryl…”_ Rick whispered, biting his lip, eyes pleading. He was so hard it hurt and he needed to come  _now._ Daryl only nodded at him and on the next pass, there were two fingers prodding at his hole. Rick threw his head back, willing his muscles to relax enough to let those wet digits in. He could feel Daryl moving them around a bit - to make sure Rick was stretched or to make him whine, Rick wasn’t sure.

Before he could think about it again, however, Daryl pushed both of his fingers as deep as he could in this position. Rick’s whole body twitched and he made a noise that sounded vaguely like a wounded animal. And then, Daryl leaned in and took Rick’s cock back into the wet heat of his mouth, humming as he let it go as deep as he could. He tightened his hold on Rick’s hip when his knees buckled, and Rick was glad for the added support - in the next second, the very tips of Daryl’s fingers brushed over his sweet spot and Rick was  _flying._

The whole world shifted and he closed his eyes, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. It took him an embarrassingly long time to calm down enough to open his eyes again, and when he did, he found himself on the floor, Daryl looming over him.   
“Ya okay?” Daryl asked and Rick grinned, nodding. Daryl sat down right next to his hip, and Rick let his hand travel to the trousers that Daryl still had on. He ran his fingers over the worn-out denim, scraping his nails over a few threadbare patches.

They stayed quiet, Daryl staring at something in the living room, Rick petting his denim-covered thigh.   
“I could get a job,” Daryl muttered suddenly and Rick looked up at him. Daryl was sucking at his thumb thoughtfully, knuckles caked in dried-up blood, and Rick tried hard to stop his thoughts from drifting away from the topic. This was far more important than Daryl’s come-less fingers that had been up Rick’s ass just a few minutes before.  
“Why?” Rick asked, clearing his throat, and Daryl shrugged.   
“If ‘m gettin’ together with a cop, I shouldn’t be makin’ money with my fists,” Daryl replied casually, and Rick’s heart hammered wildly in his chest. He sat up slowly.

“‘m good with bikes. And I know how to paint ‘n’ shit. Maybe I could find somethin’ at tha’ construction site…” he went on, but Rick wasn’t listening anymore. Daryl was talking about getting a job, because he didn’t want to get Rick into trouble... _because he wanted to be together with him._

Rick couldn’t stop himself any longer - he grabbed Daryl’s head and turned it just enough, so he could shut him up with a kiss. It was long and passionate, and Rick hoped it conveyed all of those things he couldn’t really put into words.

“What was tha’ fer?” Daryl rasped when Rick pulled away.   
“You want  _us?”_ Rick waved his hand between them imploringly and Daryl nodded, ducking his head. Rick caught a small smile playing on his lips just before they disappeared behind the too-long hair. Something fluttered wildly in Rick’s chest. “Won’t you miss fighting?” Rick asked, frowning.   
“Not with ya,” came the quiet reply, and Rick melted a little bit inside. Daryl was ready to leave the murky clubs behind  _for him?_

“We can still go out there sometimes, you know?” Rick prompted, pushing his fingers gently under Daryl’s chin and lifting it, prompting Daryl to look at him. “I like getting into trouble with you,” Rick whispered. When Daryl gave him a smile, that rare one, the one reserved only for Rick after a very good fight, Rick kissed him again.   
“Come on,” he murmured against Daryl’s lips. “Let’s get to bed and make plans tomorrow, hm?”

Daryl nodded and helped him off the floor.

A few hours later, Rick woke up to Daryl curling up against him under the blankets, pushing his face into Rick’s neck and mumbling something incoherently. Rick wrapped one arm around his back and held him close, running his fingers over the scars, until he lulled himself back to sleep with a small smile on his lips.


End file.
